


The Wrong Sneakers

by threeplusfire



Category: Hat Films - Fandom
Genre: Drinking, Everything is an AU, M/M, Summer Romance, Too drunk to remember, film editor au, sneakers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 18:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11515146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/pseuds/threeplusfire
Summary: Ross is a workaholic film editor who came home from a party wearing the wrong shoes. Based on a prompt suggestion.





	The Wrong Sneakers

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from a list on tumblr: I came home wearing someone else’s shoes from a party last week and I didn’t notice till I got home, so I looked up photos of the party on facebook and found you had been wearing them. I don’t know you very well but…if I’ve got your shoes, have you got my shoes? au
> 
> Suggest by the ever excellent Kez, so I hope you enjoy this ridiculous bit of AU. It was a great weekend project to take my mind off things, thank you!

Ross rolled over, and groaned at the light stabbing into his skull. His head throbbed, and his mouth tasted wretched, like he’d been drinking gutter water mixed with cigarette butts. He didn’t entirely remember getting back, or why he was sleeping fully dressed on the sofa instead of in his much more comfortable bed. His legs ached, stiff from sleeping in his shoes and probably without moving for hours. 

His phone was dead, and needed to be charged. At least he had his phone, and his keys, and his front door was shut unlike that one time he woke up to it wide open. Squinting against the sunlight pouring in the open curtain, Ross reluctantly pushed himself to his feet. He needed a shower and coffee, before he did anything else.

In the bathroom, he sat down carefully on the toilet. It seemed easier to take off his shoes from a sitting position. Ross leaned over and switched on the water before trying to toe off his shoes. They wouldn’t come off though, and Ross groaned in frustration. He lifted one foot, thinking the laces must be tied too tightly. 

It wasn’t his shoe. Ross stared, and for a second he wondered if he was dreaming. He leaned forward, risking the queasy sensation in his stomach, and looked down at his other foot. These were definitely not the black and white Adidas he left the house in last night. They were a grey and red pair of Nike high tops. Ross could not ever remember buying a pair of high top sneakers in his life. 

“What the fuck?” Ross whispered. Puzzled, he pulled the shoe off. He was fairly sure he was wearing his own socks. But these were not his shoes, which were a completely different color and style. Weirdly, they seemed to be the right size even if everything else was wrong. 

Ross did not want to think about this just yet. He yanked off the shoes, and his clothes. Leaving everything heaped on the floor, he climbed into the shower. This could wait until he was more awake.

 

* * *

 

Freshly showered and in some clean clothes, Ross felt a little more human. His mouth tasted better after toothpaste and two rounds of mouthwash, and he felt less like he was about to crumble into dust. He put a couple pieces of bread in the toaster and considered turning on the kettle to make coffee. Instead, Ross grabbed a can of cola, just because it was easier than also making coffee or tea. The fizz would help settle his stomach, he told himself. 

Standing at the kitchen counter, Ross opened up Facebook on his phone. It wasn’t hard to find pictures of the party, and he scrolled through dozens of them as he crunched on a piece of toast. He scratched the back of his calf with a bare foot, finding several pictures of himself but no sign of the mysterious shoes. He vaguely remembered having to take his shoes off in the foyer of the home, setting them in a large pile overflowing the bench rack near the door. 

Ross wondered if it would do any good to text the girl who threw the party. He met Gemma at some happy hour thing months back, but he’d not really spoken to her more than twice before last night. Maybe his shoes were just sitting around there waiting to be picked up.

He brushed away toast crumbs into the sink, and carried his cola back to the sofa. He was about to give up looking through party photos when he found one taken outside. It was the little garden, and a couple people were stood on an ornamental bench with their hands raised in the air. Judging by the grins and goofy expressions, they were cheering or singing. But the important part was that Ross could see they were wearing shoes.

The guy wearing a grey and red pair of Nike high tops was not anyone Ross knew. He clicked on the photo tags, searching for a name. Only the girl was tagged, and Ross cursed too loudly in the silence of his apartment. He began scrolling through party photos again, searching for the tall guy with reddish hair. After swiping through several more, he lucked onto a photo of the guy and the party’s hostess, smiling for the camera in the kitchen.

_ LOL I feel like a midget whenever I’m around Alex! With Gemma Ferris and Alex Smith _

“Alex Smith,” Ross said. Did he know this guy? That was such a generic name. He followed the link to the guy’s profile, curiously scrolling through his pictures. He was cute, Ross thought idly. Cute enough he would have noticed if he was working with him. Tall and with that messy, kinda wavy hair and puckish grin. He had way too many pictures of shoes though. He counted at least a half dozen from the past several months, including those Nikes sitting on his bathroom floor.

“Who has this many sneakers?” Ross scoffed. This was definitely his guy. He couldn’t see any of his posts, just the photos and some basic info. Ross groaned and opened the message app.

_ Hey this is kinda weird, but I think I have your Nikes? From Gemma’s party last night? I’m not sure how I ended up with them but I’d like to give them back to you. _

Ross read the message over and over, erasing and rewriting it a half dozen times. It sounded stupid. But this situation was stupid. He sent the message before he could talk himself out of it, and went back to scrolling through party photos. This time he looked for himself, trying to piece together his memories of the night. He didn’t look that drunk in the photos, he mused. Was he that drunk? Must have been. Maybe he forgot to eat dinner.

The past couple months had been nonstop work. Work hours segued into evenings and weekends. Ross brought work home on his laptop and tinkered with it in his free time. Feature work paid, but sometimes it could be intense. They were very near the end though, and it was just a matter of mopping up edits and fixing little things. So when his coworkers dragged him to a party, he hadn’t put up much of a struggle.  A couple drinks sounded nice at the time, a good way to wind down a Friday.

Apparently a couple drinks turned into a lot of drinks, and then he stole someone’s shoes. Ross covered his eyes with one hand. He was going to have to apologize to this ridiculously attractive man, try not to insult him for being the sort of guy with a shoe collection, and stop skipping dinner. 

He also had to find some shoes to wear, until he could get his sneakers back.

 

* * *

 

Ross carried the Nikes in a shopping bag. He’d checked them carefully, making sure there weren’t any suspicious stains or scuffs. Apparently from his cursory google searches, they were pricey shoes. He felt queasy all over again every time he looked at them. He still had zero memory of why he came home wearing them. His coworker Kim only said someone had called him a cab, but she didn’t remember him leaving. No one had seen his shoes, and they weren’t at Gemma’s.

The weekend crowds at the park were making the most of the bright sunlight. Ross squinted, and wished he’d remembered his sunglasses. A pair of kids on skateboards cut him off, zipping down the sidewalk. Anxiously, he checked his phone, confirming he was at the right park and headed for the right fountain. He probably should go out more in this city. A year here, and he’d hardly seen any of it aside from work and his apartment. Ross scanned the crowds, and wondered if he was going to recognize the guy amongst all the people on benches, sitting in the grass or walking under the trees. Conversation and bits of music drifted through the air, the faint background noise of traffic from the street, and the barking of a dog. 

All those fears were unfounded when he caught sight of Alex Smith standing by the fountain. He stood out in the crowd, not just because he was so tall. Ross took a moment, watching him. He didn’t know what he expected this guy to be like. The fashionable street wear could mean complete asshat. He was wearing another pair of high top sneakers, lurid green ones that were extra bright against his all black outfit. His hair swept to the side, probably about due for a trim the way he kept combing it back out of his face. Ross took a breath and hurried over, before this guy saw him staring like a creeper.

“Hey,” Ross said, breathless and awkward. He held out the bag, his anxiety shredding his nerves as the guy lazily turned to look at him. He felt ridiculous, somehow undressed and unfashionable even though he was also just wearing a tshirt and jeans. But his was a faded Star Wars shirt, and his jeans somehow didn’t manage to look as cool. They were a rather ordinary blue denim, and he’d accidentally ripped a hole in one knee. Instead of expensive sneakers, he was wearing a very battered pair of Converse he’d found in the back of his closet.

“Hi!” Alex grinned. He flipped up a pair of Raybans, and Ross had a moment of wondering if every single thing this guy owned was branded. Up close, he could see the black on black logo of something he didn’t recognize on the shirt.

“Really sorry about this, I don’t know what - I must have been incredibly drunk.” Ross hoped his face wasn’t turning red.

“Do you really not remember?” Alex asked with a slightly incredulous laugh. He stepped forward to take the bag from Ross’ outstretched hand. They were very nearly the same height, and it surprised Ross. He wasn’t used to being around many people taller than him.

“Afraid not,” Ross admitted. 

“You were sitting there on the steps inside the front door,” Alex explained, twirling the shopping bag in one hand. “I came down on my way out to have a smoke, and you were so upset.”

“Upset?”

“You couldn’t find your shoes,” Alex said. “So I was trying to help you find them, and you picked up one of mine.”

“You just let me put on your shoes?” Ross frowned.

“You held up the shoe and said it was the most beautiful shoe you’d ever seen.”

“Oh fuck off, I did not!” 

“You did, I swear to god!” Alex laughed. 

Ross laughed, mortified with himself. This was somehow worse, this absurd situation. The first time he was talking to an attractive non-coworker in months, and he’d already made a complete idiot of himself. Alex kept talking, gesturing gleefully.

“So I let you put them on, and you said you were Cinderella now because the shoes fit. You looked so happy.”

“Oh my god,” Ross groaned. “I am so sorry.”

“It was cute,” Alex said. “I mean, you were wasted. If I’d been mad, I could have just taken them away from you.”

“You really should have.”

“I thought you might cry if I did.”

Ross wondered if it was possible to actually die of embarrassment. Would it cause you to have a heart attack because all the blood drained away, or would you just stop breathing? Would he fall over dead, or would he spontaneously combust, leave a smear of ash by the fountain? Alex seemed supremely unbothered though, even amused by the whole scenario. Ross wasn’t sure he’d be so calm about it in his place.

“Did you go home barefoot?” Ross asked.

“I had some shoes in my car, boots from camping last weekend.” 

“What the fuck ever happened to _my_ shoes then?” Ross frowned. “I messaged Gemma. She didn’t have them, and no one else turned up with them.” 

“Dunno.” Alex shrugged, and checked his watch with a flick of his wrist. “Want to go buy some new ones? It’s pretty early, we could go check out a couple places.”

Ross raised his eyebrows, glancing at Alex and then away at the summer crowd in the park. He scuffed one foot against the concrete, the rubber peeling from the sole of his shoe. They really should have gone into the trash ages ago, but he was glad he had them today so he at least wasn’t walking around in the uncomfortable dress loafers he reserved for formal occasions. 

“Come on, we’ll get you some Nikes so you can be Cinderella all the time.” Alex tilted his head. He had an easy smile, and Ross found himself warming to it. The afternoon light brought out the bright highlights in Alex’s hair, making him golden and ruddy like a god out of a Titian painting. Ross thought he should have his headphones in, so he could soundtrack the moment.

In that second, Ross realized the whole thing was straight out of a movie. A movie he’d probably scoff at while he worked on it, some romantic comedy with current pop and really bright colors and a cheesy marketing campaign. But here it was, a handsome stranger and a sunny day, and Ross could not quite believe this was real. He wondered if this was some set up, Kim and his coworkers conspiring to introduce him to someone. Maybe she stole his shoes as part of some sneaky plan. That was entirely possible.

Alex waited, watching him. Ross wondered what he did for a living. Maybe he was an actor. Still, he didn’t think the guileless smile was fake. He didn’t look like an actor playing a role. 

“Okay,” Ross agreed. It didn’t matter if someone set it up. He was here now, and he needed some new shoes. He followed Alex into the movie.


End file.
